Family's Warmth
by snowflakes and ink
Summary: Sherlock Holmes' had nothing left but himself after the tragic murder of his only brother, Mycroft. However, after a letter was sent to him by mistake, he realised that he has a sister. Maybe he was not alone after all. Based on Basil Rathbone series.
1. Chapter 1

Chapter 1

Lost and found

"Seriously, Holmes, please, stop numbing yourself with the awful thing!" Watson sighed as Sherlock Holmes adjusted the needle of his cocaine syringe.

"Watson, have you ever being denied clients for a week? For once every month I would be wondering. Have you ever felt empty before?" Holmes asked, lying back in his chair, closing his eyes.

Watson regarded his friend with close attention.

"No, why?" 

"Because I have an extremely bad feeling that something is going to happen, and to put it more precise, a tragedy," Holmes muttered. Watson put down his book.

"Holmes! I have always known you as a practical man, how could you trust your senses without a more….ahh, well, solid evidence?" Watson asked, surprised.

"I have being through a train of thoughts, Watson. Moriaty may be dead, but there are thousands of who are willing to carry on with what he had so far achieved. Just look at what is happening in the streets nowadays! Robbery, burglary, and even murders! Those are done by the Moriaty-want-to-be, sadly, they are after more than just money and 'fame', Watson," Holmes sighed, his hands balled into fists.

"What are they after?" Watson asked.

"Me," Holmes said simply, "but not just me, Watson. Given the chance they would be so delighted to finish off Mycroft too, just as a little treat for themselves," Holmes said, his eyes opened, staring at the ceiling.

"Don't you think it would be more appropriate to warn Mycroft about this? I mean, if there are really people who are after your family, it would be better if you give them a warning first before they go out into the street unarmed?"

Holmes snorted.

"Seriously, Watson, your ways of thoughts are weird, no insults, old fellow." 

Watson rolled his eyes. Holmes had just proved to be impossible.

They sat silently, and then the door-bell rang.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

Sorry, forgot to put a disclaimer in front.

I do not own all the characters from Sherlock Holmes series except for Sophie.

The tragedy

Mrs. Hudson appeared with a gentleman. She handed Holmes the man's card.

"Mr. Perifong, a pleasure meeting you, I see you have come from-"

"No time for such things, Mr. Holmes, I came with bad news, not for you to practice your deduction skills on me," Mr. Perifong said shakily.

Holmes looked surprised for a few seconds, before sitting up and alert.

"Pray tell me the bad news you have come to bring," Holmes said, his grey piercing eyes focused on the man.

The man took a deep breath and spilled out his news.

"Mycroft Holmes was killed, murdered, to be more precise. I am his butler," Mr. Perifong said.

It took about a minute before the truth dawned upon the detective. Holmes' face became drawn and pale. His lips quivered, he turned back to the young man.

"It is a lie, is that not?" Holmes snarled, anger and disbelief in every syllables.

Mr. Perifong looked straight back at him.

"No, sir, it is not a lie, I can swear to it. Police had arrived early this morning to find the house empty except for the body. They had being looking for evidence, but so far, no luck," Mr. Perifong said apologetically.

Holmes grabbed his cap and coat, before turning to Watson.

"Take your coat, Watson, and hurry!"


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

Sad Truth

As fast as he could go, Holmes arrived at the mansion of his brother, Mycroft. Police were swarming like ants. Numb with shock, Holmes pushed his way right through the crowd gathering from the nearby neighborhood.

"Sherlock Holmes!" one of the police officers called, rushing to the detective's side. There was a low murmuring in the crowd.

"Inspector Gregson! What is going on? Where's my brother?" Holmes asked urgently. The inspector shook his head sadly.

"You mean he's….?" Holmes asked, thoroughly shocked.

The inspector nodded.

"He was….?"

Another nod

"Someone broke into his house and…?"

Another nod

"Holmes!" inspector Gregson exclaimed all of a sudden as Holmes sank onto the ground, covering his face with his hands.

"Holmes, I am so sorry," Watson said, squatting down and patting his friend on the shoulders. The detective shook his head, heedless of the muttering and gossiping going on around the crowd.

"Dr. Watson, could you escort Mr. Holmes back to his lounging in Baker Street?" Inspector Gregson asked.

Watson nodded, helped the distraught detective up and hired a hansom.

"It's Sherlock Holmes, the brother of Mycroft…."

"Poor man, the only Holmes left now…."

The comments met his ears clearly even after he board the hansom. Holmes felt every muscle in his body screaming with pain and the agony of lost. They were right, he was the only Holmes left now.

Dr. Watson tried his best to comfort his friend, looking no more than a walking dead.

"Holmes, I know it is hard to loose a family member, but you have to continue with life," Watson said as gently as he could. Holmes shook his head, his grey eyes somehow sparkling with tears.

"Watson, you don't know how it feels," Holmes snapped. Watson turned away, feeling dejected.

They traveled in silence, Holmes looking out of the window at the low-laying houses, thinking. He had always feared loosing Mycroft. Ever since a man tried to kill him by throwing a rock the size of a pail down at him from the third storey of a building and spiking his drink with poison in a bar, he knew that sooner of later the villians would take revenge on his brother. It was all my fault, I should have warned him, thought Holmes, his eyes shut tightly and his hands on his hair.

He was the only Holmes left now.

Him alone.

No one with him.

Maybe I...

"I have a sister," Holmes said all of a sudden. Watson looked up.

"A what?"

"A sister, I know, I have one, I can't remember her name, but I know her initial was also S.H." Holmes said excitedly. Watson could only gap at him.

"But how on earth…."

"Listen, I was reading my mails last month when I came over a letter with the initial S.H. written on it. It was delivered to me by me by mistake; there was someone else with the surname Holmes, a girl, by the look of the handwriting," Holmes said quickly.

Watson was at a lost.

"Could it be someone else with a different surname but by coincident her initial was also S.H., but it does not necessary has to be Holmes, could it?" Watson suggested. Holmes glared at him angrily.

"The letter was signed 'Holmes', Watson, and how many people have the surname Holmes?" Sherlock Holmes snarled. He wrenched open the carriage door and before Watson could stop him, leaped out and disappeared.


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

Searching

Holmes spent the next few days searching for the letter, digging around in piles of letters like an earthworm.

"I knew it! I knew it! I knew I kept it up somewhere!" he shouted with triumph when he appeared from below several layers of opened letter, waving a blue envelope in front of Watson's face. Curiously, Watson opened the letter.

_**153 C**_

_**Allamanda Street **_

_**A.L.P.S**_

**_Dear Joan_, (it says)**

_**It had being sometime since we met, how's old Fluffy? Say hello to him from me. Thing had being going on very well here, plenty of clients to set my brain working, and guess what, Mrs. Violet even bought me a Collie dog! It was only three months old, but we will talk about that later. **_

_**Talk about lost. Have you ever lost anything in your life like a family member? I knew about your mother, and I am terribly sorry about it. But the worse thing was to know about the existence of a love one but not meet him. Since I was under the care of Mrs. Violet I had not know about this "brother" of mine until I came across a photograph yesterday when I was keeping the letter. Imagine my surprise when I saw another boy standing beside my long ago deceased mother and father. **_

_**Not to mention surprised, but also angry. I mean, the world is so filled with lies that you do not know if the truth was really true and the lies were really lies. But still if you exist upon the earth, your heart remains a beating soul which has to learn how to understand the "truth" and the "lies" don't you? I remain, **_

_** Faithfully yours,**_

_** Sophia Holmes **_

Watson sat frozen. Holmes was right; he did have a sister after all.

"We should go and get her right now, I have made a terrible mistake which resulted in the lost of my dear Mycroft, and I shall not make the same mistake again," Holmes said his voice rigid and stiff.

"What do you plan to do? Bring her here?" Watson asked, surprised. Holmes nodded.

"The least I could do now is to protect the one left of my siblings, I might die trying, but it is worth it," Holmes said, his face set and determined.


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5

Family

Sherlock Holmes and Watson walked up to the small flat. Holmes rang the bell.

They heard footsteps. Minutes later, a rather motherly looking middle-aged lady appeared.

"Yes? How can I help you?" she asked, looking curiously at the pair of them.

"Are you Mrs. Violet?" Holmes asked politely.

The woman looked surprised.

"Yes, I am, how do you know…." 

"I am here to see Miss Sophia Holmes," Holmes said firmly but not rudely.

"Oh, please come in, sir, she's upstairs," Mrs. Violet said.

Holmes threw Watson a what-did-I-tell-you-look and followed the humble landlady to the foot of the stairs.

They arrived at a rather newly designed door at the second level. Mrs. Violet knocked on the door gently. A soft, melody-like voice came from within.

"Please come in, Mrs. Violet." 

Mrs. Violet pushed the door open.

"Ah, I see you've brought visitors, Mrs. Violet?" a beautiful girl of no less then 14 was sitting on the coach, reading a large book.

"Yes, Sophie, this is Mr.……." Mrs. Violet shot a questioning glance at Holmes, who cleared his throat and said.

"Mr. Curradous and this is Mr. Woodley," Holmes said, indicating to Dr. Watson and himself.

"Pleasure meeting you, Mr. Curradous," Sophia smiled who stood up and shook Holmes' hand, which was rather weird since she was about three-quarter his height. Holmes bent down and kissed her hand gently.

"Pray take a seat, Mr. Curradous and Mr. Woodley," Sophie smiled, indicating towards two rather comfortable looking couch, which was then Holmes began to take in the full appearance of the apartment. Unlike his own, Sophie had done a good job in keeping her apartment neat and tidy. Pictures hang on the walls; the floor was carpeted in a soft type of pale blue carpet. Tables and chairs were orderly arranged, a vase of flowers standing on every single table. Sunlight poured in from the windows with its curtains carefully bundled up. It was indeed a cozy apartment to live in.

Holmes' gaze returned back to his hostess. She was really beautiful, and a close resemblance to himself; sharp piercing grey eyes, hawk-like nose and jet-black hair.

"Well, Mr. Curradous, I see you came from London, arrived here by train, and traveled along muddy tracks by foot through Allamanda hill. You must have achieved an excellent result from your chemical experiments based on hydrochloride acids and sulphuric acids, did you not?" Sophia asked politely.

Holmes looked surprised.

"How in heavens…."

Sophia smiled.

"You have a train-ticket sticking out from your pocket which stated a 4p.m train from London. Your coat was splatter with mud due to the heavy rain yesterday which could only have indicated that you have being crossing a heavily-wooded area. By the way the hem of your coat was more muddied at the front; it seemed to me that you have being climbing a rather heavy slope which could only be the Allamanda Hill which was right next to my flat since the mud splashes were fresh. As to your experiments, you hands were spotted with acids splashes. You must be careful next-time you try anything with sulphuric acids. Highly explosive, that stuff," Sophia said, smiling.

Holmes looked stunned for awhile. Then he regained his posture.

"Oh! I see where you get your reasoning from!" Watson smiled.

Sophia suddenly looked serious.

"Please state the case which you had came forward for," she said.

Holmes sat upright.

"I came to ask you a few questions, Miss Holmes, and I would be very grateful if you were to answer them honestly," Holmes said gravely.

Sophia looked indifferent.

"Can you tell me about your family?" Holmes asked.

Her face hardened, a frown appeared.

"I don't see that's any of your business, Mr. Curradous," she said slowly.

"Just tell me, about your mother, your father, your brother," Holmes said, trying his best not to let his voice tremble.

"My mother and father both died in a railway accident, and my brother just seemed to disappear," Sophia said softly.

That's true, thought Holmes. Their parents did die in a railway accident on a train which was purposely set on fire.

"Your parent's death was not an accident, Miss Holmes, it was a murder," Holmes said quietly. Sophia's eyes sprang upon him like flames.

"Who are you? And how dare you mention that in my presence?" she asked, standing up and from her pocket, she withdrew a revolver. Holmes raised his right hand.

"Please, listen to me or I will make you listen. Put that revolver away," Holmes said coldly. Sophia froze, her hands still clutching the revolver.

"I'll not hesitate to shoot, tell me exactly who you really are," she said, voice trembling. Holmes paused, reached into his pocket and withdrew his card.

"Here, take a look," he said, tossing the card over to Sophia. She read, and collapsed.


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 6

Horrid realization

"Sophia!" Sherlock Holmes somehow managed to leap over the soft couch and caught the girl in mid-fall before she hit the ground. Sophia was unconscious, Holmes' card still clutched loosely in her hands.

"Oh My! What happened!" came the voice of Mrs. Violet.

"It's alright, Mrs. Violet, she just passed out from the truth, don't have to worry, just bring up some towels and cold water would you?" Holmes asked calmly, placing the girl gently upon the couch. Mrs. Violet appeared moments later with the things Holmes required.

"I would say that the news was too much for her, would you not, Holmes?" Watson asked anxiously as Holmes gently placed a towel soaked with cold water upon Sophia's forehead.

"No, I would not. She has got to know the truth sooner or later," Holmes said quietly. They sat watching over Sophia until her eyes flicked open.

"What on earth has happened just now?" she asked, groaning.

"You passed out, that's all I could say," Holmes said gently.

"Oh! You! That's your card is that not?" Sophia asked, sitting upright in her couch. Holmes nodded.

She read the little prints on the card once again.

"I can only say that I am half-convinced," she said slowly after awhile. Holmes sighed.

"Fine, test me on whatever you know," Holmes said.

"What is the name of your mother?"

"Helen Smith."

"What is the name of your father?" 

"George Holmes."

"What is the name of your brother?" 

Holmes felt another deep pang of lost at the mention of Mycroft.

"Mycroft."

"When is my birthday?"

"Thirteenth May."

"When is your birthday?" 

"Same as you." 

Sophia collapsed back onto the couch, looking at a lost. He got all the questions correct, so what can I do now? She thought. 

Suddenly, she got an idea. Springing up, she pulled from her pocket a silver necklace, a close treasure inherited from her mother. If he was truly her brother, he would have the other half……

She extended her hand with the necklace to the so-called-Sherlock-Holmes.

"Here, what do you make of it?" she demanded.

Sherlock Holmes did not say anything, instead, to Watson's amazement; he pulled out from his own pocket a similar necklace, but instead, he's was gold. Calmly, he attached the two together. He gave it back to Sophia.

"I used to ponder over what on earth it is, now I knew; it is a rose, is it not?" Holmes asked quietly.


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter 7

Rose.

Sophia stared at the completed necklace in her hands. This is so not good, nothing absolutely make sense now. Now fully convinced, she looked up shakily at her brother, who was watching her every move.

"Why did you take so long to appear? Why did you keep me waiting?" she asked, tears starting to appear at the edge of her eyes.

Sherlock Holmes shook his head sadly.

"I did not know that I have a sister too until your letter reached me by mistake, but that's not what I came here for," he said gently.

Sophia looked up at him.

"What do you mean? What was your real purpose of coming here then?" she asked softly.

Sherlock Holmes reached over and took her hands.

"Danger, Sophia, danger. I have something else to tell you, and I am afraid that it is very bad news," Sherlock told her quietly. Sophia nodded slowly.

Sherlock Holmes explained to her about Mycroft's death. Watson observed Sophia's eyes became shinier and shinier with tears before she broke down, sobbing into Sherlock Holmes' shoulder. Placing an arm around her lean form, Sherlock Holmes could only sighed; his family broken and with only the two of them?

"What do you want me to do now?" a tear-stained Sophia asked.

"I need you to come with me to my apartment in Baker Street. Mrs. Hudson had another spare bedroom right next to mine to spare. The least I could do now was to protect you from attempt murders. With me and Watson to watch over you, I don't think you would be anywhere near danger," Sherlock Holmes said gently. Sophia nodded.

"I can't believe Mycroft is dead," she said softly.

"Neither could I, but now it is up to us now to decide our future. Pack up your cases now and we will move you over right now, I have everything arranged, may I have a word with your landlady?" Sherlock asked. Sophia nodded, rang the bell and Mrs. Violet came in.

"How may I help you, Miss Holmes?" she asked, smiling.

"Mrs. Violet, may I have a word with you?" Sherlock Holmes asked politely, before pulling the landlady out. After exchanging a few quick comments, the landlady appeared with Holmes back in the apartment. The motherly smile on the lady's face was suddenly replaced with sadness.

"I will miss you, Sophie," she said softly as she watched Sophia dragging her case out into the night and into a hansom. Sophia took one last look at her old apartment before waving goodbye to her guardian, a woman who had being taking care of her since the age of 4.

"Mrs. Violet calls you Sophie? But I thought your name was Sophia?" Watson asked out of interest.

"Sophia is my real name, but you can call me Sophie if you want to, that's what everybody calls me," Sophia/Sophie said softly.


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter 8

221B Baker Street

By the time they got to Dr. Watson and Sherlock Holmes' apartment, it was already very dark outside. Casting nervous glances over his shoulders, Sherlock Holmes steered Sophie in quickly before closing the door behind him.

"Mrs. Hudson! We're home," Dr. Watson called merrily towards the kitchen. A minute later, a plump, kind looking woman appeared at the stairs.

"Why! It's so late at night, where have you being? I tried the door three times to send up the supper but no-one is at hom- oh, hello!" she said, noticing Sophie for the first time.

"This is my sister Sophia, but pray call her Sophie, Mrs. Hudson, she is the reason we are out till so late at night," Sherlock Holmes said smiling.

"Oh! So it is you Mr. Holmes has being talking about this morning! Welcome to your new home, Sophie. I have you bed made and the fire lit, please make yourself absolutely at home. I will send up the supper soon," Mrs. Hudson smiled, before bustling into the kitchen again.

"She's our landlady, Mrs. Hudson," Dr. Watson explained as they climbed the stairs. Sophie nodded, not knowing whether to make any comments or not. They reached the second level. Holmes opened the door and stepped back to invite Sophie in.

"It's a bit untidy, but don't mind, I will show you to your room," Sherlock said kindly. He picked up Sophie's case and turning abruptly to another door, he opened the door with a set of keys which he handed to Sophie.

"This is the set of keys to your bedroom, the apartment, and my room, oh and the drawers too," Sherlock said, setting down the case and lit the lamp.

From what Sophie could see, it was an extremely well-furnished room with a complete set of furniture and pale purple carpet which feels soft under her feet. There was a fire crackling merrily in a corner, and several vases of flowers placed around the room. It was almost exactly like her old apartment back at Allamanda Street, but still, it lacks something which Sophie could not say.

"Mrs. Hudson insisted on putting flowers on the tables, but I see that she is right about that," Sherlock Holmes said. Sophie nodded, said a soft 'thank you' and exited the room.

"Let me show you around," Dr. Watson said helpfully. Sophie smiled, and accepted his offer.

"This is Sherlock Holmes'……err……science laboratory, don't go in there too often, it was often filled with toxic gases, and this is the living room, where Sherlock would do most of his consultations….Oops!" Dr. Watson apologized as he accidentally knocked against a chest of drawers. The picture of Irene Adler fell out. Before Watson could comment on it, Sophie bent down and picked it up.

"Is this Irene Adler?" she asked Sherlock, who was standing at the door-way. Sherlock Holmes, for once, looked surprised.

"You know her then, Sophie?" he asked.

Sophie's thin lips were set in a grimace.

"Had to fight tooth and nail against her once, almost like you and James Moriaty," Sophie said sadly. Ignoring Sherlock Holmes' questioning gaze, Sophie placed the picture neatly back into the drawers.


	9. Chapter 9

Chapter 9

Two Holmes?

When Sherlock Holmes exited his room the next morning, he found Sophie already up, wearing a man's attire, with ties and suits. Her hair was braided into French braid.

"Good morning, Sophie, and may I ask why are you wearing a man's attire?" Sherlock Holmes asked kindly.

Sophie looked surprised.

"I don't like to wear a corset day and night. In fact, sometimes, I don't wear a dress at all. This set was made by me. All of my clothes are made by me, or I would have to spend extra money to buy them," Sophie replied.

"Ah," Sherlock said, which was the only word he could utter.

"There is a man coming forward for consultation, Sherlock," Sophie said all of sudden, when Holmes (Sherlock) was sitting in his couch, smoking. The door-bell rang.

Jumping up and donning on his suit, Sherlock made his way towards the door.

"Ah, Holmes, I see you are up, it is regarding the murder of John Gresiton, I hope you don't mind if I take up some of your…oh, hi!" he said, looking surprised at Sophie, who was seated in the living room.

Sophie waved back.

"I see you have had a hard case to solve, Inspector Lestrade," Sherlock Holmes asked. Looking at the detective in surprise, Lestrade gapped then laughed.

"Another of your little tricks, Holmes," he said heartily.

"Chalk between your thumb and fore-finger indicates that you have being to the club the night before and since it was still here on your hand, you must have collapsed into bed right after you reached home. Such behaviors could only be when a man has something troubling in his head, and by the word 'Inspector', I deduced that you have a new case which you can't solve," Sophie said quietly, but nevertheless audible. Lestrade's eyes budged.

"Who…"he began, but was cut off when Sophie promptly stood up and shook his hand.

"Sophia Holmes, Inspector Lestrade, nice to meet you," she said, smiling politely. Lestrade looked surprised. He looked back at Sherlock Holmes.

"My sister, I got her from Allamanda Street just last night, don't have to look surprised, Lestrade, I have got her personal documents and enough proof to show that she is my sister," Sherlock Holmes said. Lestrade looked stunned, then burst into laughter.

"Oh! Now I have two competences! By the look of it, Sherlock, she can take your place now!" Lestrade said. Sophie raised one eyebrow.

"Lestrade, what is it?" Sherlock asked impatiently.

"A man was murdered at a lonely village near Allamanda Street last night, he was reported to be bringing alone a young lady too, but the girl disappeared, and we found the man this morning," Lestrade said. A frown crossed Sherlock Holmes' forehead.

"What was the girl dressed in?" Sophie asked all of a sudden.

"Pale periwinkle blue with a gold and silver necklace, as for the man, a rather formal evening suit with a black tie," Lestrade said.

Sophie bit her lip; the clothes matched hers and Sherlock's. That night when they left for Baker Street, she had worn the complete necklace around her neck, and as far as she knew, Sherlock was wearing an evening suit with a dark, almost black tie. But why would someone imitate them? Could it be a warning to them as well?


	10. Chapter 10

Chapter 10

The murder

After exchanging quick looks with Sherlock, Sophie cleared her throat.

"Can I come with to the scene of crime?" Sophie asked, looking at Lestrade. Sherlock paused, hesitating.

"Very well, I take that as a yes," Sophie said simply as she returned to her room to get changed.

After a few minutes, Sophie emerged from her room wearing the most bizarre costume Sherlock has ever seen; it looked like a dress, but the only difference is that the dress was separated vertically into three parts from the hem of the dress to the middle of the dress at knee-level. . The 'dress' was three inches above ankle level. Conscious of the attention she was getting, Sophie looked at Sherlock in the eyes

"It is my own invention. Half dress half suit, isn't that great? I use to wear these when I have to go to a scene of crime or a mission. The blouse is specially made by me with a thin layer of flexible metal sheet beneath the cloth to protect myself from gunshots, yet allowing enough freedom to move," Sophie explained. The blue costume did indeed make her look smart, but reminded Sherlock deeply of the Washington police-officers.

"Well, let's get going, shall we?" Sophie asked brightly as she extracted from behind her back: a checked coat, completed with an Inverness cape and a deerstalker cap. Both Lestrade and Sherlock Holmes stared.

"I see why you both are of the same type," Lestrade said after awhile. Sophie looked puzzled, and a look of understanding dawned upon immediately when Sherlock too extracted from an armchair a set of attire almost identical to Sophie's.

"Oh! Err, nice cap!" Sophie said doubtfully. He copied my design! She thought angrily.

"Let's get going, shall we?" Lestrade asked. Still glaring at each other, Sophie and Sherlock both stormed out of the apartment, with Watson following.

By the time they got to crime scene, a large crowd was gathering in front of the ill-omened street. Sophie was reminded forcefully of her old home, but nevertheless, her mind was fully on the case now. They had to push through the crowd in order to reach the body in the middle. Grasping Sophie's hand tightly, Sherlock Holmes led her through the thick crowd and into the middle.

"Mr. Holmes! Good thing you are here, and who is this enchanting young…err…lady?" asked a tall and extremely well-built inspector.

"Ah, a pleasure to meet you, Inspector Gregson, this is my sister, Sophia Holmes, pray call her Sophie," Sherlock Holmes smiled as he shook hands with the inspector.

"Ah, you got her from the orphanage did you not?" Gregson asked, looking interested. Sophie finally raised her head and shot him a look so threatening and fierce that Gregson immediately recoiled.

"She is my sibling, I managed to locate her and bring her to stay with me just yesterday. Don't regard me as a down-hearted fellow, Gregson; I would not adopt a sister just for the sake of getting over Mycroft," Sherlock Holmes said quietly, nevertheless, his voice hinted coldness.

Gregson had to admit that the girl looked like Holmes himself, and with her sharp features, piercing grey eyes, and by her composure, she was an exact copy of Holmes.

"Don't trip over stools in the future, Inspector, china are breakable, especially your wife's favorite Ming dynasty vase!" Sophie said coldly after a while.

Gregson, for the first time looked surprised.

"How did you know all these?" he asked.

"The fronts of your shoes are enough to proof that you have knocked your feet against something and by the look of the unbalance in the scratches made on both shoes, I deduced that you must have knocked against something at knee-level, lost your balance, and fell forward. There are scratches against your gloves which tells me that you must have being helping to clear up the mess which you made. That is obvious that you broke something. The marks on your gloves are only made by china by their instinctive sharp edges, and they left small dust-like particles on your glove which could only by done by a Ming dynasty antique made by a material specially for making vases," Sophie said smartly.

The spectators standing close by listened to her deduction gasped in surprise and a murmur of approve broke out from among them. Gregson was not at all surprise to see a glimmer of pride in Sherlock Holmes' eyes.

"And how on earth do you know that I am married?" Gregson asked suspiciously.

Sophie rolled her eyes.

"A clear budge in the left hand ring finger is enough to show that, is it not, Inspector Lestrade?" Sophie asked.

"Oh, sure, shall we proceed?" Gregson asked. Sherlock Holmes nodded and the three of them approached the body.


	11. Chapter 11

Chapter 11

Two heads are better than one.

They approached the body. The victim was a young man about Sherlock Holmes' age. Wearing the evening suit that Gregson describe, there was a shiny looking tie-pin like badge on his collar. He was lying on his face, his limbs out-stretched, and from the point at Sophie's view, he looked like he was in great agony when he died. Protruding from his back was a long dagger with the initials S.O.W. carved on it. Bending down, Sophie carefully touched the man's visible part of his face, then she had Sherlock turn over the body, she smelt the dead man's lips. A look of understanding was quickly replaced by disbelieve on her face. Sherlock was examining the wound which the dagger made. The police officers stood back impatiently as they watched the two detectives looking for clues. Finally, Inspector Gregson piped up, "Holmes." Both Holmes turned and face him at the same and both spoke up at the same time.

"Be more precise."

"Sherlock Holmes," Gregson snapped impatiently. Sophie's glance returned back to the body.

"Holmes, what have you found? You two had being examining the body for a good fifteen minutes now, are you telling me that such a simple case is so hard to solve?" Gregson asked.

Sherlock Holmes frowned.

"What is your deduction then, Inspector?"

"The murderer followed the unaware couple and the lady sensed the danger quicker than the man. She fled and the man did not get away in time and was stabbed by the murderer in the back. The murderer, who obviously heard someone coming, dashed away and left this dagger behind, is this so hard to comprehend?" Inspector Gregson said with some what of a smirk. Sophie suddenly appeared at his side.

"So simple? Then can you please explain to me, Inspector, why did the dagger not sink in fully?" Sophie asked.

"That's something simple: the murderer did not use so much force for that, and the victim obviously tried to dodge but to no avail. The dagger was sunk into him, but not so deeply," Gregson said. Sophie snorted.

"Murderers of such cruel murders would not be so gentle in stabbing when it comes to killing the victim," Sherlock said quietly.

"The man was stabbed after he was dead," Sophie said, glaring at the Inspector. The Inspector recoiled, backing away from the two detectives.

"What do you mean?" he gasped.

"We will give you a hint, Gregson; the man was killed first by another way and the murderer, or someone else sank the dagger into the man's back in order to make it look like he's being stabbed to death…." Sherlock Holmes began.

"……and he spilt blood of another animal or man's blood onto the poor man's back in order to make it look as though the victim had being stabbed. We will give you another hint: the dagger is left here for a purpose," Sophie finished.

Exchanging looks with her brother, Sophie turned back to the pale Inspector.

"There doesn't seem to be any more evidence here, we wish you good luck, Inspector," Sophie said before turning away.

"Oh, just one more question, Inspector, two, actually. Who sent for Scotland Yard when the crime was discovered?" Sherlock Holmes asked behind his back.

"A young lad named George," Gregson called back.

"And what color tie does he wear, that George?" Sophie asked. Now seriously puzzled, the inspector answered with reluctance.

"A dark green one, Miss Holmes."

"Very well, that's all I need to know," Sophie smiled.


	12. Chapter 12

Chapter 12

Debates

"It can't be green, it just can't be," Sophie Holmes groaned impatiently as they finally reached the warmth of their apartment at Baker Street.

"Why can't it be? Maybe the guy has another tie? That is something which you must consider in your deductions," Sherlock Holmes said patiently.

"Okay, now let's get this clear. I know this man had being poisoned before he was stabbed, and he obviously died even before the knife reached his back, but why did that lad George reported that a man stabbed the poor fellow to death? The victim was extremely stiff, part of the work of poison, and surely the lade George was part of the murder. But a green tie? Something is wrong about this, don't you think?" Sophie muttered.

Sherlock lit his pipe and sat back in his armchair. Suddenly, he sat bolt-right.

"The badge," he whispered, his eyes shining in anticipation. Sophie looked at him puzzled for a second, and then a similar look dawned upon her face.

"Could it be the badge which killed him?" Sophie asked excitedly. Sherlock nodded his head.

"Listen, I have solved a case called the sign of four, which involved poison darts being projected out of straws as a form of weapon. This could easily be a same case as that," Sherlock said quietly.

"The idea of fastening is definitely eliminated, because no one could be sure when the poison works will exactly. The poison which is present in the badge is definitely deadly which could kill the man in a few seconds. All they have to do is to shoot or stab the badge into the victim's neck first which make it look like a struggle before stabbing him, is that not? Or maybe that George fellow is lying," Sophie said, staring into the fire. Opposite her, Sherlock nodded in agreement.

"What do we do now?" Sophie asked.

"We will ask Inspector Gregson to collect the badge and send it to us unpolished so that we can take a look at it. Right now, there is nothing much to do. Billy!" Sherlock Holmes called towards the ajar door. A minute later, a young message boy pushed the door open and peered in.

"Ye asked, Mr. 'Olmes?" Billy said.

"Yes, take this telegraph down to Allamanda Street. There is a crime scene where a tall, broad-shouldered…" Sherlock started.

"And pig-like idiot by the name of Inspector Gregson. Pass the notice to him and make sure he receives it personally. Tell him to put the badge into a box WITHOUT CLEANING and send it to us by tomorrow," Sophie finished.

"How do you know what I am going to say?" Sherlock Holmes asked, frowning, after Billy left.

Sophie smiled.

"You are not the only detective in the room, Sherlock."


	13. Chapter 13

Chapter 13

A second murder

When Watson awoke the next morning, he saw the two Holmes still sitting in the living room. Both of them looked drawn and pale.

"Holmes! When did you wake up this morning?" Watson asked. Sherlock turned towards him.

"Neither one of us managed to get any sleep yesterday night, Watson," he said, in an almost snappish way.

"We are waiting for Inspector Gregson's news," Sophie added. Watson frowned.

"Ah, I see you have made some progress already, have you not?" he asked, as Mrs. Hudson brought up the breakfast tray.

"Not really, Watson, but still, there are slight progression, yet none of us are completely sure who and how the murder was committed. We have many alternatives, but in order to get to the bottom of the case, we need the badge. Ah-ha!" Sherlock exclaimed all of a sudden as the door-bell rang.

Instead of Billy, a young fellow whom Sophie did not recognized opened the door without knocking to the living room where they sat. He passed Sherlock a note and a small packet, curtsied, and then left.

"What has he got?" Sophie asked anxiously. Sherlock unsealed the note, read it, and passed it to Sophie.

"Great Scott! We must go at once to Allamanda Street!" Sophie said shakily, as she gathered up her coat and cap.

"Sophie! NO! COME BACK HERE AT ONCE!" Sherlock yelled as the frantic girl dashed out of the apartment. Grabbing his coat, Sherlock motioned for Watson to follow him.

"Impossible girl, dashing out of the apartment like that! She might be killed!" Sherlock exclaimed as they ran after Sophie.

"What did that note say?" Watson asked, panting to keep up with Holmes.

"Billy was murdered while on his way back from Gregson, murdered in a similar fashion as the victim at Allamanda Street," Sherlock said irritated.

"Oh dear! And where on earth is Sophie now?" Watson asked, gasping for breath. They watched as Sophie got into a carriage, shouted an address to the driver and they were off at top speed.

"Try and follow that carriage in front!" Sherlock Holmes yelled as they jumped into another carriage. The driver looked at him in irritation.

"Okay! There's no need to shout!" he snapped, before cracking the reins. Sherlock glared at him fiercely before staring out of the window. All Watson could see was low-lying houses and small stalls rushing pass them. Sophie's carriage clattered in front, with its passenger completely ignorant to the carriage following behind. The two carriages traveled through wet and muddy roads as they fought through the gale. Finally, Sophie's carriage came to a complete stop.

"Here, stop! Take the money, don't worry about the change!" Watson ordered the driver as they got off from the carriage, careful to avoid being seen by Sophie.

"Where on earth does she think she is going?" Sherlock muttered under his breath as they watched Sophie darting around, peering into dark allies and corridors, and finally she slipped into a nearby ally.

Sherlock Holmes and Watson followed her as she crept along in the dark and cold ally until she reached a gate. Watson did not need the nudge in the ribs nor the whisper that Sherlock gave him.

"It's the Central-park cemetery!"


	14. Chapter 14

Chapter 14

Sophie darted into the cemetery, dodging low-hanging branches here and there; still, she kept on glancing at the piece of note that was in her hand.

_Dear Mr. Holmes,_

_We are sorry to inform you that your messenger Billy was murdered near Allamanda Street. He was found with the box in his hands and a knife in his back. _

_Inspector Morris_

And at the back of the note:_ R.P.S.I.P 9.00 10.30 5.78 0.68 W_

Sophie knew that the string of letters and numbers meant something, a code, and she solved half of it. The first five letters, R.P.S.I.P, actually meant P.S. R.I.P.

The rest of the code was in a grave yard, at column nine.

Sophie scrambled through the different rows of tombstones, and finally, she arrived at a line of tombstones that says: Column 9.00 to 10.00.

She stopped, paused, and looked around. The graveyard seemed empty except for her. Never in her life had she believed in undead or vampires, but the creepy graveyard gave her chills. I'll just get the rest of the code and get out of here, she thought shakily. She bent down at the first tombstone and studied its rough surface very carefully.

_Here lays Dr. Augusto W. Vero _

_Loving father and husband _

Right beside the last letter "d", there was another string of numbers: 10.30 87.5 0.68 1.11X

The numbers were roughly carved in, and obviously against the permission of the family of the dead. Sophie wiped out a notebook and a pen and jotted the completed codes. Why the numbers are reversed and why are there a new number and a cross? She thought, puzzled. No time for that now, she would think about it later back at Baker Street.

She was about to get up and go when a gloved hand flew out of nowhere and covered her mouth, muffling her scream. Another hand twisted her hands behind her back, forcing her to drop both notes. Sophie tried to turn around, but the attacker was too strong. Fine, if you want to play, then we play, thought Sophie smugly.

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

Sherlock Holmes and Watson heard a distinctive struggle in front of them. Cocking his revolver, Sherlock proceeded forward, with Watson following close behind.

Suddenly, a yell of pain echoed through the misty graveyard, causing the hair on Sherlock Holmes' arms to stand.

"Good God who is that?" Watson whispered.

"No idea, but we must proceed," Sherlock said quietly. They sprinted along the way in the darkness, occasionally tripping over tree-roots and fallen tombstones.

"Watson! Look!" Sherlock hissed as they came into a clearing. Two figures were lying on the ground, a dark liquid spreading out on the cold, clammy and decaying soil of the cemetery.

Holmes dashed to the smaller figure and he gave a loud exclamation of horror.

"Watson! Come here! Come here at once! It's Sophie!" he yelled as Watson bent over the other figure on the ground.

Watson sped over to Sherlock side.

"Great Scott! We need to get her to the hospital!" he exclaimed. Sophie's face was drawn and pale, a small trickle of blood flowing down from her forehead. Protruding from her right shoulder was a long knife, fresh blood flowing out with every pulse. Sherlock wiped out his scarf and pressed it firmly on the wound to stop the bleeding.

"We need to get her back now! Not the hospital, Watson, at least not today!" Sherlock said hurriedly as he picked up Sophie.

"Once we got back call in the Scotland Yard, Watson, we need to know the identification of this man."


	15. Chapter 15

Chapter 15

Codes

Sophie's brain felt sodden. She fought against the attacker, kicking his shin and nudging him hard in the ribs. Finally, she felt the attacker loosened his grip on her. She grabbed the first thing that was on her that moment: a knife. She was in the habit of bringing a knife wherever she went last time, and this time it would be put to good use. Using all of her energy at one time, Sophie thrust the knife into the man's chest, causing the man to stumble back, howling in pain. She smirked, and turned around to leave when all of a sudden, she felt a sharp pain in her right shoulder. Horrified, she could only watch helplessly as the silver metal blade protruded from her shoulder. The attacker knocked her onto the ground, before collapsing himself. Tasting warm blood in her mouth, Sophie rolled over and tried to pull the knife out of her shoulder as pain shot through her whole body. She could hear footsteps, probably the people in the team of the attacker. Groaning, Sophie fought to stay conscious as the footsteps got closer.

She could hear a man's worried tone, and a warm cloth material being pressed onto her wound. Maybe I am already dead! She thought in panic. But she soon dismissed the idea when another sharp pain overtook her in the shoulder. Great, just what she wanted, more pain.

By the time they reached home, Sophie was almost unconscious, but still she fought hard to be in the real world. She saw a pigeon swimming, a dog flying (maybe it is underdog!), a dinosaur dancing the can-can, and a lion being eaten by a chicken. It seemed like hours to her before she found herself lying on a soft bed.

Watson bathed the wound, careful to avoid reopening up the wound after it was patched up. Sherlock Holmes paced around in the living room, his chin sunk upon his chest.

"Can you stop that? You are about to bump into a whale!" Sophie snapped, or tried to snap. Sherlock stopped, staring at her as though she had just grown thirty more head.

"Severe hallucination, don't worry, she would be fine in the morning," Watson said.


	16. Chapter 16

Chapter 16

For the next few days, Sophie laid in bed, playing with her bandage until Watson told her not to and she would start again after he was gone. Almost every hour she would cast an irritated look at her brother, rolled her eyes and continued playing with her bandage. Although Sherlock often came to keep her company, Sophie preferred to remain alone in her room. She would be awaken by the harsh cooing of the night birds on her window sill near midnight and throw a silent temper tantrum, and then she would be tired out and go to sleep. Every morning, she would turn down Mrs. Hudson's well cooked breakfast and throw another silent temper tantrum because she could not get out of bed. The rest of the after noon would pass without anymore temper tantrums and fits. At one in the afternoon, Mrs. Hudson would once again bring up lunch which Sophie would only take a few bites. Another silent temper tantrum would occur because she could not walk around. Finally, night time came and Sophie could finally relax and watch the moon crawl up the inky dark night sky. This routine repeated itself for four days.

It was only until the fifth day was she finally able to walk around. The first thing she went for was her desk, where she had carefully hidden the small slip of paper of the clues away from anyone. Sophie studied it. It did not seem any special to her. She checked many books from Sherlock's book shelves (much to Watson's irritation because he always gets blamed for the mess Sophie made) but could find not a single thing. Finally, she gave up, throwing the paper aside, she cast her eyes up at the ceiling. Stupid code, stupid place, stupid everything! Sophie stood up and started pacing around the room.

Goddamn place, it was not a bit like her old home, nice and cozy. Pausing in her tracks, Sophie threw another glance at the piece of paper on the table. It was just a code, nothing else, just a code, just a co-

She cocked her head sharply to the right. Suddenly, it became all clear. Realization dawned on her as she picked up the paper once more and began to survey it again. This time, she held it upside down.

10.30 87.5 0.68 11.1X was an exact copy of X1.l1 89.0 S.LB 0E.0l

Sorry for the short chapter, another one coming up soon!


End file.
